For The Sake Of Discord
by papayann
Summary: Snape appears at Grimmauld Place, spelled and dazed Draco in hand. He forcibly leaves Draco there, promising safety. When he dies right there, Draco is left to cope in this house of former enemies and this feeling of utter lonliness. Post HBP. Slash.
1. Serendipity In Disguise

**Ch1: Serendipity... In Disguise**

Draco couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"Draco, listen to me. I am taking you to a safe place, somewhere no enemies will find you, if you cooperate with the people who run it." Severus is talking briskly, lowly. "I can't return there. After what I did, there's no going back. I am fully with the Dark Lord now… or I will be, after I get you there." Draco felt groggy, even though her should be fully awake. He didn't respond. "They will keep you safe," Severus continued.

Draco began to open his mouth. It was getting increasingly difficult to move. To _think._ A spell…?

As he began to slow, Severus picked him up, bridal-style, completely unalarmed. The hell? Why was his teacher spelling him? "I'm sorry about this, Draco." Draco struggled to yell at him, but it wouldn't happen. He glared instead. "These people… won't be people that you like, or even people that like you. You will be treated with suspicion, questioned about things you don't want to think about. But you're going to have to bear it. At least you won't be dead."

Just who were these 'people'? Where in the world was Severus taking him?

Severus suddenly thrust a piece of paper under his nose. "Read," he commanded. "Memorize it quickly. And make sure it's _memorized._" Draco obeyed… he couldn't do much else under the spell Severus had placed him under.

It was written on a tiny, worn and creased piece of parchment. Despite that, it didn't appear _old._ Just beaten. The writing seemed vaguely familiar, but Draco couldn't quite place it.

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place._ He repeated it to himself a few times, trying to engrave it in his memory. The next couple of minutes passed in silence.

Severus stopped abruptly. "Got it?" Draco had long since stopped repeating the words to himself. He tried to nod, say an 'ok', but it was too difficult. Severus nodded. "Very well." Quickly, he summoned the parchment from Draco's hand and lit in on fire. Draco started. "Now, think the name," he ordered, eyes flickering to a grubby alleyway between two houses.

Draco did, puzzled. His eyes widened as a house seemed to inflate out of nowhere in the same alleyway… the surrounding houses moved aside to give it enough room. Warily, Draco eyed a passing Muggle… not a blink.

"See it?" Severus muttered under his breath, so that only Draco could hear him. His lips barely moved.

Draco blinked a yes and rolled his eyes, hoping that was enough for his teacher. It was. Not hesitating, Severus strode up to the door.

He knocked once. Immediately afterwards, he set Draco on his feet and removed the spell. The effects were slow to wear off, though, so it was all he could do to stand.

They waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually probably only minutes. Each time Draco raised his hand to knock again, his guardian would stop him. The spell lingered resolutely, slowing Draco's motions and thoughts. Finally, the door opened with an almighty groan.

He barely had time to register the black hair and wide, shocked acid green eyes before Severus hissed a "goodbye" in his ear and hurled him inside forcefully. The effects of the spell meant that he couldn't catch himself; instead, he fell into an undignified heap on the cold, dusty stone floor.

From his pathetic position, Draco heard Severus's voice yelling something urgently. Another voice, younger and full of raw rage, screamed impressive curses.

He turned his head laboriously, slowly taking in the scene before him.

Harry Potter, of all people, was at the doorway, his back to Draco and pointing his wand at Severus, spells of increasing darkness and intent to hurt streaming from his lips. Severus himself was blocking the spells, but with increasing desperation… the spells would soon hit him.

…and, possibly worst of all, a Death Eater stood behind Severus, waiting for the perfect opportunity and aiming for Severus's back as best he could.

"Severus! Sir!" Draco forced out in desperation. Why was it so hard to speak… o function!?!

"Draco-close-the-door," snapped Severus between spells and gasps of breath. Draco had never seen his teacher so discomposed- just how strong had Potter gotten?

Suddenly, closing the door seemed like an excellent idea. Somewhere, in a very remote corner of his mind, he realized that Severus _hadn't_ taken the spell off him… his teacher had placed him under a lax Imperius Curse. But _that_ didn't matter now… not when he could feel so happy just by closing a simple door.

Suddenly, walking was easy. He felt himself get up fluidly, moving up to the door and starting to go around Potter.

The Death Eater chose that moment to strike.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Black eyes widened in shock an instant before the spell hit. The body lurched forwards, slammed by the green light, and crumpled to the ground in a way that Severus would _never_ do.

Draco's mind seemed to click-now the spell finally lifted. He started going into overdrive. He rushed up in front of Potter, rage coursing through. Remembering a spell once used against him, he screamed, "_SECTUMSEMPRA!"_

The Death Eater clutched a gloved hand to his bleeding chest, staggering. Draco shouted again.

"_SECTUM-"_

A resounding 'POP' drowned out the rest of the spell as the robed, bleeding man disappeared.

"_NO!_" Draco yelled, "Come back here, you bloody coward!"

Just as his eyes re-found Severus's crumpled, still body, he was grabbed by the shoulders from behind.

"Let go of me, Potter," he snarled.

"No," Potter growled back. "I want answers, _now._ Inside, _Malfoy._"

Draco couldn't believe it. "Severus Snape just died, _right_ in front of you, and it's your fault! Don't you care!?!" What happened to the goody-twoshoes Potter from school? And what the hell was he thinking?

"I'm just sorry I wasn't the one to kill him," replied Potter venomously.

Draco couldn't take it. Swinging around, he punched the asshole Potter square in the jaw. The 'Chosen One' staggered, but retaliated quickly by punching Draco's nose. Blood spurted as Draco felt his nose break. Blinded and gasping in pain, he couldn't put up much of a fight as Potter unsympathetically grabbed him and wrenched him around, holding his hands behind his back.

"_Experiallmus_," he muttered darkly, lowly, catching Draco's wand with his free hand.

_Now_ Draco fought. He twisted violently despite the fact he couldn't see a thing through all the blood. Potter kept his grip with apparent ease. "Let me bloody go!" Draco yelled thickly, voice muffled by the liquid in his throat. He coughed, spraying blood.

"No," came a stubborn, raw voice from behind him. Subsequently, Draco's hands bound tightly together- Potter had used a nonverbal spell on him.

Suddenly, Draco felt truly drained. It was too much… slowly, he sank into unconsciousness as Potter led him inside.


	2. Flashes

Harry gazed down at the frail body of Draco Malfoy. He had brought him so a couch on the main floor after he'd passed out, but… now what?

He had no idea what to think or do.

He still hated the arrogant blonde Slytherin. A lot. But…

And there it was. The big problem. _But._ He'd seen the git on the astronomy tower, seen his hesitation, his fear. His all-consuming _predicament._ And now, that stupid drop of pity was making things more complicated than they should be.

Just a month ago, the choice would have been simple. Draco Malfoy in his house? Pah! He'd be locked up and interrogated in an instant, if not thrown back to the death eaters or jinxed in to oblivion be Harry himself. Well, Harry still had half a mind to do just that, actually. But he knew he wouldn't really.

Hence the confusion.

But he just couldn't hurt this… _boy… _at the moment. The pity was making him _notice_ Malfoy. Since when was he so thin? So pale? So… weak? Tortured?

And Malfoy was, too- his usually precisely styled hair was tangled more than Harry's own legendary mess. His skin was the whitest Harry had ever seen it- and that was saying something. It would be almost paper-white, if not for the thin blue veins clearly visible underneath. And while his rival had always been slim, he was now just plain skinny. His bones jutted out, enhancing every angle in the already angular body.

Suddenly, Harry was reminded forcibly of a certain white, bony ferret. It was a stupid thing to be reminded of at a time like this… Harry couldn't quite tell if the ache in his throat was from stifling laughter or tears.

He sighed, still staring blatantly. No one was with him in the house, save Malfoy. It was one hell of a mixed blessing.

"Nnnggghhhh…" Malfoy was stirring now, moaning. He seemed to be waking up.

"Ah…" vein-baring eyelids fluttered open. The eyes behind them seemed hazy, almost clouded, he noticed. Harry tensed nevertheless, fingers twitching to his wand.

"What the…?" Malfoy's eyes closed briefly. There was a pregnant pause, then: "Bloody _fucking_ hell!" he yelled, making a move to get up. Harry had just fully grasped his wand when Malfoy stopped mid-action, like he'd been Petrified. His eyes unfocused, and he slumped back. "Shit," he rasped.

Harry eyed him warily.

"Shit," muttered Malfoy again. "Fuck," he added as an afterthought. His eyes shut loosely. "No…" he breathed. With that one word, his whole body shuddered.

Harry felt an unexpected lump rise in his throat. Perhaps it was the fact that, for the first time in his life, he could relate to Draco Malfoy. He remembered the boy who, on the very first day of school, had offered his hand so arrogantly.

But no, Harry thought firmly, he's mourning _Snape._ No pity, remember?

Not that that helped any.

"Severus is dead… it's… real… then?" Malfoy asked. Harry didn't quite know how to respond to that.

"Yeah, this is all real," he replied flatly after a moment's pause. He was feeling so many things he wasn't sure he was feeling anything. He still felt like this was a dream… or a nightmare…

"Bollocks," Malfoy replied, snapping Harry to the present.

Harry blinked. Malfoy brought his knees up to his chest, bowing his head to hide his face.

_Bollocks?_

That was the understatement of the century… but… it sure as hell summed everything up nicely.

"Yeah," Harry agreed thoughtfully, "Bollocks."

* * *

Alright, people, I promise that the future chapters will be way, way, way longer- I know full well this one is super-short, as was the prologue-thing. But I needed to hurry up and get Harry's POV over with… as far as I've planned, it's all Draco from here on out. And best of all, he's not under Snape's spell anymore, so he'll have actual thought patterns for you to follow.

Anyway, this is my first HP fic… I hope I get the characters alright. So far, I've only written for video game-verses, when the characterization is left a bit more to interpretation… ah well. I know they're weird here, but Snape's never died before, so I had nothing to compare too. But hey, I tried.

And thanks for the reviews and alerts! You guys make me happy. If you've read this far though, would you mind leaving a review for me? I know I need to improve some stuff, and what author doesn't like feedback? Hell, even flames are good.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Dark Mark

Kyaah, I apologize for the wait! I'm a procrastinator, seriously. But thank you so, so much for reviewing! I appreciate that. On another note, thanks for adding me to your alerts, but wouldja mind dropping me a line? I'm curious.

Anyway, I got my very first flame today on another story of mine, so now I feel like writing more homosexual-ness just to annoy them X3 Aren't I mature?

* * *

Draco wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten there, but now he was in a bedroom. It was depressing thing, with only a sagging single bed (on which he was sitting), an obscenely decorative, tarnished full-length mirror and an empty portrait. There were dusty patches on the floor, showing where furniture had once been- Draco guessed it had been recently moved. The walls were a murky yellow-gone-gray colour… definitely not the most inviting room Draco had ever been stuck in.

But not the least, either. At the very least, there was a pleasant smell that he recognized from his first class with Horace Slughorn… that bizarre not-quite-minty smell. Unusual as it was, it was very, very comforting for some reason that Draco couldn't place.

Not half bad, all things considered… not that he'd admit it to Potter.

_Potter._ Draco snorted to himself. _This_ was Severus's 'safe place'? His 'people to take care of you'? _Potter._ He'd looked more ready to kill than to _help_ anything, much less Draco Malfoy, long-time rival and object of unconditional loathing.

He growled and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. It was _not_ fit for use. After a moment's hesitation, he rolled over until he was draped pathetically on the thing. It was more comfortable, and it wasn't like anyone was going to see…

"Who do we have here?" a snide voice asked. Draco jumped, grabbing his wand. "Ah-ah-ah… no spells you idiot."

Draco blinked. The empty painting was talking to him? Dear Lord… he thought out of habit before catching himself. No- no lords anymore.

"So why exactly are _you_ here, young Malfoy?" the snide voice interjected, breaking his train of thought.

Draco jumped again. "Why can you talk if you're not in the painting, and how in hell do you know my name?" he asked, feeling proud for sounding so calm.

"Idiot. I'm _related_ to you," it (he was pretty sure it was a man) replied, completely ignoring the first part of the question. "But how did you end up here? I was quite certain Potter positively loathed you." A dainty sniff was heard. "Not that I can blame him. You certainly don't seem like much."

Draco could hardly understand what was being said to him. Was that bloody spell still having aftereffects? The world seemed to be phasing in and out of focus. Bloody hell… he was _not_ going to pass out again! He gripped the edge of the bed, completely forgetting about the empty talking painting. The world blurred precariously.

It felt like someone was trying to crush him. He may have screamed; he couldn't tell anymore. He'd let go of the bed, now clutching at his forearm and squeezing it as hard as he possibly could.

He couldn't feel the world anymore…

Suddenly, he was sopping wet.

The world came back to him.

His right hand was slippery with blood that his left arm was bleeding out sluggishly and mixing with the water that was still being shot at him. "Stwlaup!" he sputtered around a mouthful of water.

The spray ceased, and Draco was left to blink the water out of his eyes.

"I didn't know I'd have to baby you, too…" he heard Potter mutter from somewhere very nearby. Draco started.

"Potter, wha-" he promptly shut up when a towel was dumped on his head. Choosing to stay silent, he grabbed the thing and started rubbing at his eyes.

"…oh…" he stated when he saw the state of the room. "Oh."

Blood and water was everywhere. Apparently, he'd clawed at his own arm enough to shallowly cut into a vein… and it was bleeding way, way more than was just, in Draco's opinion. The Dark Mark was burning black.

He stared at his arm for a moment, puzzled. It didn't hurt anymore… well, not really. Just a dull sort of ache.

Suddenly, Potter entered his field of vision to kneel in front of him and start bandaging his left forearm. The water made a 'splosh' as he did so.

"…I can do it myself, Potter," muttered Draco, more for show than anything. He halfheartedly tugged at the strips of cloth in Potter's hand- the truth was, it was quite nice to have some help.

"Shut it, Malfoy," sniped Potter. Draco noticed that his eyes were just a little too wide, and his hands were slightly shaky.

Why?

Draco focused on that question- it was certainly better to think about than the rest of the world, in any case. The water at his feet sloshed insistently. Absently, he grabbed his wand. "_Evanesco,"_ he said tiredly, glad that at least his spell casting wasn't effected.

He looked down at himself. Sopping wet, blood everywhere… he sighed. These were his only clothes…

Wait.

Water. _Blood._

"_Oh,_" he voiced aloud in realization. Potter grunted, disinterested and presumably focusing on not letting his hands shake. "This looks a lot like…" he trailed off, suddenly realizing that the _Sectumsempra_ incident might not be the best topic of discussion.

Potter had finished. "There," he said finitely, standing. "Get up, would you?" Draco obeyed, pushing those thoughts from his mind. They would just be annoying.

In an instant, several things happened in very, very quick succession. A bell clanged obnoxiously from somewhere outside the room, followed shortly by a shrill shrieking-type noise… upon reflection, Draco realized that there were _words_ being shrieked, cursing.

And on top of all that, there were bellows of, "WOULD SOMEONE SHUT THAT BLOODY THING UP!?!?!"

"Shit, Potter…" Draco winced, covering his ears. "This is one freakish place you've got here." Potter just stared at him incredulously, with something akin to horror. Uncomfortably, Draco shifted so that his bangs fell over his eyes- the intense scrutiny was unnerving.

"I guess so…" Potter replied absently.

"SHUT IT, YOU OLD BAT!" came another roar from downstairs. Potter winced.

"Oh, _Ronald!_" someone huffed loudly. Draco heard an indignant stomp before the shrieking stopped. In the silence that followed, something clicked.

"_Ronald?"_ he gaped at Potter. He couldn't imagine dealing with _that._ "Not the _Weasel…_" Potter's expression darkened.

"Well, yes," he replied stiffly. _"_They're more welcome here than you, you know." Draco flinched slightly.

"…fine. But any way I could not see them right now?" he tried to sound haughty, but knew he probably failed.

Potter glared at him, then sighed. "Sure," he said quietly. Without any further explanation, he stood and pulled a silvery cloak from a pouch hanging from his belt. "Just shut up and cover yourself with this, okay?" He threw it at Draco and rapidly waved his wand, effectively ridding the room of any more water. Without further ado, he sprawled on the bed.

"What is-" Draco started, before Potter's elbow jabbed him between his ribs. "Ow…" he whispered, but threw the cloak around his shoulders regardless.

His body disappeared. He couldn't bring himself to be surprised, though… after all, how else could Potter get away with so much? Sighing to himself, he chose a corner to huddle in, though he remained standing- better be able to maneuver, he figured.

"Harry?" called out Granger's voice politely from the other side of the door.

Weasley slammed the door down.

* * *

So, there ya have it. Lol, I 3 Flamers, if they actually make me write! XDDD But reviews are the best. Seriously. 'Specially since I'm self-beta-d.

Speaking of which, would anyone be interested in beta-ing? And I take pairing suggestions... I've already got the key ones planned, so go ahead and suggest!


	4. Spark

"Harry!" yelled Weasley, yanking at Potter's foot. "Wake up!" Potter grunted, seeming convincingly groggy. Draco was impressed.

The Weasel pounded on the bedpost a couple more times for good measure. Draco eyed the thing from his safe little corner, sincerely glad that he had chosen to get off that bed- it looked ready to snap. He pressed into the corner a little more.

"Harry! Guess what!" Granger bounced up and down, looking as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, Draco thought, feeling vaguely amazed and slightly scornful. It was like they were still at school, in Potions class with the Professor. He laughed to himself. He was definitely not looking forward to next year's Potions. After how he'd treated Severus this past year, he was surely not going to be class favorite…

Something about that thought seemed wrong, but Draco brushed it off.

"Yeah, a lead! Can you believe it, Harry? And it's not even August yet!" Granger was saying beamingly.

August… next came September. And then it would be time for school once again. His last year, though. _Finally._ Snape would have to…

"…yes, that old locket! The Black's had it!"

But no, that was wrong too. Snape was dead. Just like Dumbledore. And possibly his mother and father.

"Er, yeah… except it's not actually as easy as all that…"

It was his fault, too.

And his clothes were still wet.

"…yeah, Mundungus sold it…"

_Drip._

"…sold the Horcrux?"

_Drip._

Horcrux? Now why would these goody-goodies know about those? Draco thought distantly. Not to mention the question of _who_ was making such a dark item.

_Drip._

Why was it so silent all of a sudden? The Golden Trio could probably hear his clothes dripping.

"Well, yes, Harry…"

Was it just him, or did Granger say 'Harry' entirely too often? She was like an old lady, dropping names into the conversation as often as possible.

"Mundungus stole and then sold the Horcrux that Dumbledore died to obtain?"

"Well, yes, Harry…"

"It was here the whole time?"

"Well, yeah, mate… but just think! We've got a lead now!"

Draco decided to actually pay attention.

"Yes, Harry," started Granger, eyeing Potter like he was about to explode, "Think on the bright side. It's only been a month that we've been on our own, and we've already located one of the Horcruxes… we're one step closer to destroying Voldemort."

Oh, Draco realized, of course. Voldemort.

"Yeah, this is good news!"

Potter's face seemed to be frozen.

"But Mundungus sold it, didn't he?" he questioned, barely moving his mouth.

Weasley and Granger exchanged looks. Once again, Granger player peacemaker. "Well, yes," she admitted. Draco noticed Potter's fists clench. "But it really won't be too difficult to find out who he sold it to. It may take time, I admit, but not _nearly_ as much as it would have taken us to locate the locket without _any_ leads." She grinned timidly.

Draco expected Potter to praise her and the Weasel. He'd guess they'd act all mushy, like _best friends_ supposedly did. Maybe a few inspirational words would be said by the Chosen One, followed by a nice group, "Huzzah!" or a sickeningly cute, forordinated cheer involving lions.

Therefore, he was very surprised when Potter just tilted his head to a very odd angle, saying only a "great you guys, thanks," before yawning widely and asking if they would mind if he slept now; he hadn't been getting much sleep lately.

"Oh, of _course!_" gasped granger. "I forgot about that completely!" She pulled Weasley forcibly out of the room, leaving Draco to wonder just what she had forgotten about. _Sleep?_

Potter waited a few moments, making sure they were out of hearing distance before he got up and muttered a variation of _Silencio_ to stop any sound from leaving the room. Then, wordlessly, he cast a barrier on the door. Draco saw the faint glow of the spell before it faded back to normal.

Looked like the idiot Scarhead had finally learned how to wandless magic.

That done, he slumped back on to the bed, head cradled in his hands. Draco shrugged off the cloak and moved out of his corner- it was soggy now.

"Here," he muttered, handing the thing to Potter. His reply was another wordless charm, this time to dry off Draco's still-wet clothing.

That done, the tension in the air was stifling. Draco fidgeted.

He hated silence.

"So, the Dark Lord's got a Horcrux, eh, Potter?" The other boy's head shot up. "That explains a whole bloody lot."

Potter nodded slowly, looking trapped. "Yeah." A pause. "You can't tell anyone this. You _also_ can't leave this house, at least… not yet, I guess. You'll have to be monitored… hell, you came at a bad time. A really, really bad time… er, I'll have to speak to Professor Lupin or Mr. Weasley or someone about it…" he stood, pacing in agitation. "Damn it! Why _now?_" he glared at Draco tiredly.

Draco glared back. "Look, I didn't ask for this, _Potter,_" he ground out. "Professor Severus brought me here without telling me a single bloody thing!" Draco paused for a split second- wasn't it bad luck to yell about the so recently deceased? But he'd worry about that later. "He only said he'd take me somewhere that was fucking _safe._ He showed me the address, yeah, but how the hell would I know this was _your_ house?!?" he yelled, standing. "Don't you blame _me_ for this!"

"How could I _not?_" Potter yelled right back, taking a step forward. "_EVERYTHING_ THAT HAPPENED LAST YEAR IS YOUR. BLOODY. FAULT." They were face-to-face now, anger let loose. "IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT BILL IS PRACTICALLY A WEREWOLF! _YOUR_ FAULT THAT DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD- THAT MY LAST GUARDIAN, MY LAST _GUIDE,_ IS GONE!"

Draco had to stop himself from flinching. He'd never seen Potter _actually_ mad before. But it was kind of exhilarating, seeing the Golden Boy lose it like this. "YEAH, POTTER? WELL, IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU, MY FAMILY WOULDN'T BE IN THIS FUCKING SITUATION! THEY WOULD BE DEFINITELY ALIVE! AND SO WOULD SEVERUS!"

They both stood, panting, inches apart, in the middle of the room. Draco could feel his face flush. Now he knew that one thing, at least, hadn't changed.

He still loved to hate Potter.

Oh hell, he was going to smirk. Now was _not_ the time- Potter would probably punch him. As fun as this fight was, anything physical at this point would just leave his pathetic body beat.

He was saved from fighting with his facial muscles by a jolly, slightly congested-sounding voice.

"Now now, boys, fighting really isn't very becoming."

The two turned to gape at the mirror. That had to be the most anticlimactic thing to say, _ever._

Potter slipped on the invisibility cloak and was out the door within seconds.

* * *

Gods, it's HARD to write as a Draco-POV 3rd person. Gah, I had to go over this like 4 times JUST to correct all the times I wrote 'Hermione' or 'Ron' or 'Harry'... grr...

Review please! It's my birthday on Saturday :3 Not that you care, but whatever. Leave a bit of concrit if possibble! Thanks!


	5. Oh

Alright, this is going a lot slower than I had planned… wow, I honestly meant to have this finished before the seventh book came out.

I'm just writing this so that you know what you're in for now that there's an official 7th book plotline… you can skip this whole note if you feel like it.

So now my story obviously can't even pretend to be canon like it was before… the deal is, I'm going to use some of the details from the seventh book wherever they fit well with my plot. Obviously it won't follow the book's plotline too closely, though, because there's no way I'll switch the pairing to HarryGinny. I mean, I love her and all, but…

Heh. Anyway, in short, don't sue me or whatever if you recognize some of the bits from J.K's lovely seventh book. I'm not claiming to own it in any way.

Oh, one more thing- I realized that I broke Draco's nose in the first chapter and then totally forgot about it… sorry! I've fixed it. There's no broken nose now. Sorry about that.

--

Draco flopped down on the bed, feeling rather grim. There was way, way too much to think about.

First off, Severus was dead.

_Dead._

He swallowed several times and forced his lip to stop its tremors. He couldn't fix that, no matter what he did.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The second problem, that he was stuck in a house with Potter and his groupies, was pretty much unfixable, too. It wasn't good, but he certainly didn't have anywhere else to go.

The third problem was the most pressing, at the moment.

How in Merlin's name would he manage to get his parents to safety, too?

His father was definitely going to be receiving punishment for Draco's failure. Cruciatus curses and dirty work, most likely. His mother, too, would be punished, but hers was likely to be a more indirect, more potent type. You-Know-Who would make her watch his most brutal interrogations, probably mostly of children, make her cast the curses for him, force her to watch, maybe even participate in the torture of her husband.

Draco pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes until he saw silver. This third problem was undeniably _his_ fault. He had to talk to Potter, or whoever was in charge… Potter had mentioned Lupin, hadn't he? Maybe him, then… it had to be soon, though.

--

Harry sat on Sirius's old bed, deep in thought. He needed to mull a few things over, and this was the only place he could think of now that Draco Malfoy was in his room. What awful timing, though, really… couldn't Snape have waited until the end of the summer and just sent Malfoy to Hogwarts?

He sighed heavily. He knew that there was no way that could have happened, but…

And just when he'd convinced Ron to switch rooms, too.

And on that note, where on earth was Harry supposed to sleep now? He would sleep in Sirius's room, but he could hardly do so without some sort of explanation to the others, and that was out of the question. What would he say?

On top of all that, Voldemort obviously had noticed Malfoy was gone. The episode with his Mark proved that. Harry would have to talk to Lupin, at the very least, and maybe Kingsley. They could help him. He would need to cast some sort of protective charm over the Slytheryn to stop another attack like that.

What exactly could Voldemort _do_ with those marks, anyway? They were more than just a tattoo, that much was plain.

Harry groaned. This was too much. He was going to _explode._

--

All throughout her and Ron's conversation with Harry, something had been bothering her. As soon as she closed his door, she knew what it was.

She got rid of Ron as fast as she could, sending him to relax for a little while. They were both exhausted, so Ron accepted her proposal happily. Once he was gone, she turned around and marched right back to Harry's room.

"Harry!" she called, rapping on the door curtly. She couldn't believe him. There was no answer. "Harry!" she repeated, knocking louder.

Still no answer.

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the door handle and turned it sharply. Or at least, she _tried_ to.

It wouldn't open. She tried again, not quite believing that Harry would _lock her out._ It stayed shut. She furrowed her brow, staring at the offending door in concentration.

"_Aloha-"_ she started, stepping back and raising her wand.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, sprinting down the hallway towards her.

"Harry!" she yelled back, startled. She lowered her wand. "Harry, why on earth aren't you in your room? And why is the door locked?"

Harry halted abruptly in front of her. "Er, Hermione…" he trailed off, seeming at a loss.

"Harry," she said dangerously, placing her hands on her hips. "Who is in there?"

He paled and shifted his body so that he was nearly blocking her way to the door. "Nobody, Hermione. Why would you think that?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't lie to me. I _saw_ that damp patch in the corner. You had somebody under the Cloak!" She stared at him accusingly.

He shifted some more, further blocking her off. "Um, look, Hermione…"

Scuffling sounds were heard from inside the room.

"_Harry…_" Hermione glared at him.

"Um…"

There was a rather loud _BANG_, then total silence. Hermione arched an eyebrow. There was no way Harry could explain away _that._

"_Shit!_"

Harry winced as Hermione barreled past him, but she ignored him. She needed to know what was going on!

Hermione froze just inside the doorway. She could feel Harry pushing her aside a bit so that he could see.

She stared in shock. This was _not_ what she had expected. Behind her, Harry burst into laughter.

Draco Malfoy stared at them, looking like he couldn't decide whether he should be horrified or disgusted.

--

So, review review review! By the way, I don't know if I've said this is gonna be slash yet… so yeah, it is, so you know! It's DracoHarry shipping… so yeah. Would anyone like an eventual lemon, or should I leave it T-rated?


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